


Five Times Erwin Smith Didn't Say I Love You, and One Time He Did

by foxysquid



Series: Erumike Week [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood, Boyfriends, Canonical Character Death, Dead Boyfriends, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:06:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxysquid/pseuds/foxysquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin's always had trouble expressing his emotions--and what happens when it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Erwin Smith Didn't Say I Love You, and One Time He Did

**Author's Note:**

> For the first part, I reused the dialogue from Erwin and Mike's first meeting in my story [Scentless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1070502), to give Erwin's view of the same events, and to have some continuity in my Erwin & Mike stories.

**I.**

Erwin didn't believe in love at first sight. It was a ridiculous, illogical idea. How could you love someone if you didn't know them? Even if he had believed in it, he wouldn't have associated the feeling of _love_ with the gangly boy who towered over all the other trainees. Yet Erwin's gaze was drawn to him immediately on that first morning. It was hard to miss him. He stood out, rising over the crowd and staring fixedly ahead, as if avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

Erwin had determined to study everyone. He had to. He had to know what they were all capable of. He had to teach himself how to read them. Otherwise, how could he do what he needed to do? He practiced on Mike. One thing he noticed was that, no matter how oversized he was, there was nothing accidental about the way Mike moved. When he had to stay still, he was perfectly still. When they asked him to move, he did exactly what was required of him, no more, no less.

It would have been logical to assume that someone of Mike's size would have difficulty with the 3DMG. That was exactly what Nile did assume, or so he announced as they made their way to the mess hall for lunch. " _He'll_ never pass the test," said Nile. "He's big enough to be a Titan."

Erwin shook his head. He had watched everyone. "No. He'll be the best."

Nile blinked, turning to Erwin with a frown. "What? That's crazy. You can't know that." 

"I know." He didn't exactly know. He suspected. But it was fun to tease Nile. 

Nile rolled his eyes. "You think you know everything." He stalked off. Amused, Erwin was shaking his head over this exchange, when suddenly, Mike turned a corner and almost collided with him. Erwin noted how quick and quiet he was when he moved. It wasn't clumsiness so much as swiftness that had almost caused their collision, but Mike was also quick enough to stop himself.

"Mike Zacharius, isn't it?"

Mike nodded.

"Erwin Smith." Erwin offered his hand, and Mike took it. Then, to Erwin's surprised, he pulled.

Instead of speaking, Mike leaned in close. Erwin froze. Mike was so close to him, his lips were almost brushing Erwin's throat. Erwin's first, absurd thought was that Mike was going to kiss him. He didn't. He stopped, millimeters from touching him, from kissing him, and he breathed in deeply. Erwin felt the warm movement of air against his skin. The slightest movement on his part would have brought him into contact with Mike's mouth.

"What are you doing?" Erwin was tense, but he didn't pull back. This was the closest he'd ever been to being kissed. He could feel himself flushing, his face heating. It must have been obvious. He probably should have felt some alarm at the prospect of being kissed by a boy, but he didn't.

Mike withdrew, looking down at him. Now Erwin was the one being studied, and it was a disconcerting shift in their conversation. At first, he'd thought he was the one who knew everything, but he had been wrong. Now he was embarrassed, uncertain. He wasn't supposed to feel this way.

"Nothing," said Mike.

Erwin made a thoughtful noise. He made himself smile, the expression covering his confusion. He realized that Mike had no awareness of the effect he'd had on him. Mike asked him, "Why did you say that about me, before?"

Mike had heard his conversation with Nile. Good. Here was a chance for him to regain his footing, his advantage. He'd look like he knew something that no one else did. Erwin shook his head, briefly, the smile still on his face. "You'll see."

He probably wasn't in love that day, so there had been no reason for him to say that he was. Yet for the rest of his life, he remembered that for an instant his heart had stopped, as if waiting, waiting for something he hadn't expected. Though years had passed, he never told Mike that he'd thought that he was going to kiss him. That he wouldn't have minded.

**II.**

Mike laughed and propelled himself to the next tree, alighting on a branch. "Erwin. Come on." He gestured with one arm, beckoning Erwin away, away from where they were supposed to be, farther from the practice course and deeper into the forest.

It was possible to forget that this equipment had been given to them solely so they could kill, that man had won wings only through suffering. Possible, but not easy for Erwin. He knew the statistics. He knew how easily a man could be pulled out of the air.

Mike clearly wasn't thinking about that now, caught up in the freedom their limbs had been afforded. "It's like flying," said Mike. "Isn't it?"

It was. For the brief spans of time in which they were aloft, propelled through the air, it was exactly like flying. "Mike, we're not supposed to be playing. This is a drill."

"I know."

"Then--"

"It's not gonna hurt my scores," said Mike, and there was an easy confidence in those words that Erwin found appealing. Mike had reason to be confident. He was exceptional. He usually didn't break the rules, so why not do so this once?

He swooped past Erwin, and his control was so precise that he was able to kiss him in midair, their lips meeting briefly, long enough for him to be conscious of the soft sweep of Mike's tongue before he was gone.

The gesture was so unexpected that Erwin faltered on his branch. "Mike, I almost fell."

"You didn't fall." He smirked, teasing, taking up a new perch on a high branch, not far from Erwin. He shrugged. "I'd have caught you." Erwin was mostly certain that he was still teasing, because Erwin likely would have caught himself.

"No, I suppose not."

Mike was looking away, into the shadows between the trees. "Sometimes I think--I imagine what it would be like to keep going. What if we didn't have to stop?"

It would have been the perfect moment to say it. No one else was there to hear them, because for once, they weren't where they were supposed to be. Both of them were young. Erwin was, perhaps, still capable of the semblance of an ordinary emotion. They weren't innocent, but they weren't as hardened as they would later become. They hadn't yet been outside the walls to fight the Titans. For a little while, they were free. Erwin could have said anything he wanted. They could have gone on farther, this once.

"Someday," said Erwin. "People will be able to keep going. I believe that."

"But now?" Mike asked.

He didn't say it. They had more important things to focus on. That was what he told himself. "Let's go back."

**III.**

Their losses were heavy, his squad in danger of begin devastated. The air stank of blood, and he tried not to look at the limbs strewn across the grass. Seeing them wouldn't help. It would only distract him.

When the reinforcements arrived, Erwin felt sick with relief. Mike rose up into the sky, silhouetted against the sun. When he landed, it was on the Titan's back. He ran up over the spine and leapt into the air. When he came down, his blades made short work of its weak spot. This, in the midst of so much grief and misery, was something inspiring. Mankind rising up and striking with one blade--and then another. 

The Titan fell, leaving Mike standing on its head. He whistled for his horse, and then he was vaulting into the saddle and riding over the green sward.

They rode back together, entering the gate side by side. Mike's cheek was split open, and blood poured down over his face, dripping from his chin. He let it bleed freely, as if he didn't notice.

He reached out, his fingertips swiping Mike's cheek, touching the already drying blood and the warm skin beneath.

"Ah--did I get a cut?" He smiled, as if a cut was that meaningless to him, as if nothing could hurt him.

That was all: just a cut, after everything he'd done. He moved with such impossible grace, his large form and light movements at odds with each other. He shouldn't have existed at all. Yet there he was. As real as anyone else, breathing hard, blood and sweat standing on his skin. He was amazing.

Erwin never felt more fond of Mike than when he saw him fight, and if there was something wrong with that, then it was his fault. To see someone who could do so much for humanity, it moved him. It spoke to his dream. He experienced a rare impulse, a rush of heat inspiring him, and he reached out to take Mike's hand, as it moved to tentatively touch at his wound. He curled his fingers around Mike's. Both their hands were rough and bruised and callused, nothing lovely about them, but Erwin thought that there was no sight he liked better than that hand that could kill so perfectly. He squeezed him tightly.

"Erwin." Mike was regarding him curiously, as if he'd changed color.

It wasn't so odd, was it, to reach out and clasp his hand? Yet Erwin let go. "I'm glad you're all right, that's all."

**IV.**

They were supposed to pick up women together that night, but it didn't work out that way. Instead, they fell into bed with each other, in a room above the tavern. They were drunk and warm, and their bodies slid together easily, with a sensuality that was almost lazy.

Mike wrapped his arms around him. He nuzzled his hair, and Erwin lay still, his breathing shallow, enjoying this, letting himself be held and admired. It was a rare luxury: an entire night spent together.

"Erwin..." Mike's breath was soft against his ear. This wasn't strange. Mike often said his name, but what he said next was different. "I love you."

Erwin lay still. He said nothing. He was sure that Mike had only said it because he thought he was sleeping and wouldn't hear. Because he was drunk. He wouldn't have said it otherwise, would he?

The next morning, the Commander stared at him as he gave his report. Erwin wondered what was wrong, until Shadis asked him, "What happened to your jacket?"

Erwin looked down. The sleeves were too wide and too long, along with the rest of it. He started to laugh. It wasn't funny, but he laughed anyway. Somewhere, Mike was wondering why his jacket was too tight. They'd gotten so drunk, and they'd been so tired and disoriented in the morning that they'd put on each other's jackets without realizing it. 

The Commander stared at him, and Erwin wondered if Shadis had ever seen him laugh before, if he'd thought that Erwin had no mirth in him. He was sure Shadis would never have guessed that Erwin had spent last night in bed with Mike Zacharius, that Mike had said he loved him. Erwin only wished he could have been laughing from pure happiness, that he could have been glad because of what Mike had said. He wasn't like that. He wasn't built that way. He wasn't a happy man.

He was laughing because Mike loved him, and he couldn't love him back properly, yet here he was, drowning in his jacket, as if he were someone's real lover. It was a cruel joke, and he didn't know why he was laughing at it.

**V.**

"Can't you take that mask off, at least for me, Erwin?" Mike stood in his office, gazing down at him. It was quiet, once the sound of Mike's voice faded away. There was the distant irregular sound of orders being called, of horses passing. Nothing that mattered as much as Mike's voice mattered.

Erwin could see he was unhappy. He could have removed his mask. That was what Mike wanted. He craved nothing so much as reassurance, and that was within Erwin's power. But no, he had worn this false face long. He kept missing the opportunities to cast it off. He needed it now. He smiled, and the smile was part of the mask. Later, he said.

There would be time, he told himself. There would always be time. He could tell him when the time was right. 

Time. 

It wasn't something you could depend on. You planned for a week ahead, a month, a year, but in the meantime, everyone fell away. Almost everyone.

**VI.**

There was little left. The Survey Corps made efforts to retrieve as much of every casualty as they could. If there were remains, they would retrieve them, if it could be done without undue risk to the living. Often, it was impossible to bring a body back, or there wasn't a body _to_ bring back. They slipped down, into the darkness.

The lost deserved as much of a memorial as they could be given. If there wasn't so much as a scrap of them to burn in the fire, then the fire could burn in their honor, without their presence. It would carry them up. They would rise with the smoke into the sky because their comrades willed it. The spirits of the living would give them that, because of human imagination, human will: these things could, in the end, surmount any obstacle.

Erwin believed that.

The riders didn't bring back any part of Mike's body, but they found half of his jacket. It had been ripped in two, and it had been lying hidden in the grass, stiff with blood. From the state of the garment, it wasn't difficult to imagine how he had died, but Erwin couldn't allow himself to do that. Human imagination could be dangerous, too. You had to control it. That was true of any powerful force.

Mike had been powerful, but there was nothing left of him but this, this filthy piece of cloth. Perhaps he should have been disgusted by it, but when they brought it in, and they left, he held it up to the light. It was undeniably Mike's. The size was unmistakable, and Erwin believed he would have recognized Mike's belongings, no matter what a mess had been made of them. He brought it up to his face and breathed in through his nose. The stink of blood wasn't as strong as it could have been. The cloth had been lying outside and airing in the sun for days before it had been found. Erwin didn't let himself recoil. He made himself take in the smell.

There was blood and soil on his hand, and suddenly he felt dizzy. The doctors had said he had to be careful. He had largely recovered, but he wasn't yet at full strength. The scent was confusing. It was horrible, the stink of death, but it was the smell of Mike as well. Erwin wasn't sure what Mike would have made of it. His own sense of smell was normal and human and woefully inadequate. It couldn't process what it was faced with.

He pressed the fabric to his lips. He remembered so many things. The wind on his face and breath in his ear. Lips close to his throat. A too-large jacket with the sleeves hanging down over his hands.

The words were difficult to say, but he forced them out. "I do too, Mike. I do."

And wasn't it funny, wasn't it the funniest thing in the world, that even though there was no one here to hear him, he still couldn't shape the proper words?


End file.
